A Wish For
by Bill-the-Pony
Summary: …Simplicity – Between forms and student organizations, Sqaull inadvertently muses on a second wish.
1. Silence

A/N: _The author owns none of the recognizable characters and names – makes no profit off of them._This was written without any romantic intentions – a simple scene early on in Quistis' acquaintance with Squall. I'm pondering a few other one shots – hence the sub-title. Enjoy!  
Bill**  
  
A Wish For...  
Silence  
**_  
  
It's so quiet.  
  
Why can't it always be like this?  
  
_It was quiet, but a whispered song seemed to emanate from the stars high above, drifting silently in their black comforter of oblivion. He dared to entertain the selfish thought that the song was being sung for an audience of one - just him.  
  
Or maybe the rest of the world was too noisy, caught up in its endless cycle of business and _life _to hear it.  
  
_So quiet.  
_  
Footsteps. "You're thinking, aren't you?"  
  
Squall didn't acknowledge Quistis Trepe's presence. He turned his head aside and suppressed a sigh. _Not really. I'm trying to do just the opposite._  
  
"You don't have to tell me what about. I just thought you might want some company," the instructor tapped the railing of the balcony, "you're always so alone after classes. I never know where you go off to."  
  
_Then how would you know I'm alone?  
  
_"It's not healthy to spend so much time on your own."  
  
_I passed my physical with proverbial 'flying colors'.  
  
_"Dr. Kadowaki's definition of 'healthy' is not what I'm citing." Quistis leaned over the railing, trying to catch a glimpse of Squall's elusive face. "Just because we're not in a class setting, doesn't rectify bad manners."  
  
Squall gave Quistis a detached glance. "Bad manners?"  
  
The instructor gave a terse laugh. "Your body language practically screams, 'Go away, I'm not listening, your very presence offends me'."  
  
"What's so bad about that?" _Even if it isn't true...  
  
_Quistis turned, cocking a hip against the bars of the railing. Arms crossed, she regarded her student with a measuring eye. "You are a difficult one, I'll give you that."  
  
No reply. He stared across the plains. The small cluster of lights Squall identified as the town of Balamb, one by one, hour by hour, were extinguished, making the balm of silent night more complete. Soon...soon all would be dark – and it would be just him and the stars.  
  
...If Instructor Trepe had any intention of leaving before dawn without a full confessional from him.  
  
"This is the part where you're supposed to deny my analysis," she prompted.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because that's the way it usually goes."  
  
"What reference are you referring to?" Squall retorted dryly.  
  
"'The Book of Angst and Tragic Heroes' – don't you know it?" The raillery stopped at that. She shook her head and grinned, "You're a clever one when you try. Next I need to crowbar a laugh out of you, then I'll know my job here will be done and we can all get some shut-eye."  
  
"If that's what it'll take..." muttered Squall sourly, "'Ha-ha."  
  
"Don't overdo it on the cleverness, it wears out fast."  
  
"I wasn't trying to be clever."  
  
Quistis' brows pinched, her lips pressing into a tight line. Squall picked at the cuff of his jacket resisting the urge to fidget under her tenacious stare. Eventually the instructor gave a sound of resignation and pressed her hands against the cold metal of the railing. "I just can't figure you out, Squall. Just a peek; there has to be a crack in that mask of yours somewhere – I just can't find it."  
  
_What mask? Why does everyone think I'm an emotional basket-case? Does everyone know something I don't?  
  
_Quistis Trepe narrowed her eyes at him, her heel squeaking on the buffed floor as she turned to leave. "Not yet, but I will, Squall Leonhart."_  
  
_The door hissed shut behind her as the last light in the township of Balamb faded, giving way to the reign of night.  
  
The sigh that had been wanting desperately to be released, puffed out of his chest in a slow exhalation.  
  
_Wow, didn't think a sigh could feel that great.  
  
_Squall rubbed his chest. He hadn't thought he'd been _that _stressed. Afterall – it had just been Instructor Quistis Trepe interrogating him. But that was over, _thank heavens, _and it was quiet again.  
  
Just him and the stars, ensconced in the silence of night.  
  
This was so much nicer – being alone.  
  
_Right?_  
  
_---  
  
_


	2. Simplicity

A/N: _The author owns none of the recognizable characters and names – makes no profit off of them._Another character sketch snippet piece. Enjoy!  
-Bill  
  
A Wish For…  
Simplicity  
  
"…And then you sign here – oh, don't forget this one too." The secretary offered a spunky grin, brandishing a writing instrument.  
  
Squall accepted the pen with trepidation, regarding the "last" sheet on the quarter inch high stack of documents with equal enthusiasm. He hesitated, "All I want is a chair, not a new room."  
  
The young Secretary of Supplies continued to smile, she bobbed her head, "Of course, and these are the forms required to file a formal request. Very simple and straightforward."  
  
_Simple?__ What do you call hard? _Squall's eyebrows converged with only a wrinkle staving off a collision. "Can I file an _informal _request?"  
  
The secretary laughed and shook her head, sending her short hair in motion opposite to the cadence of her head. "No, silly." She tapped the stack of paper. "Just fill this out and we should have your chair in stock within the month."  
  
Squall's jaw came unhinged. "'Within the _month'_? But all I want is a replacement – don't you have something less broken than mine that's already here?"  
  
If Squall had been any less agreeable in visage, the secretary's congenial demeanor would have failed. "I'm afraid not. Now…" she pushed the offending documents encouragingly, "just fill out these forms and you'll be set to go."  
  
He considered, the pen almost touched the paper…but no, he just couldn't bring himself that far. "Thanks, but no thanks." He handed the pen back.  
  
The secretary made an audible sigh as the door closed behind him.  
  
_Wonder if that crate is still in the parking lot. _It was worth a look – and he did need a chair, or, at least something functional to serve as one.  
  
Hands dug deep in his pockets, Squall hugged the outer perimeter of the Garden's circular floor plan. Fellow students passed in bevies of twos and threes, conversing in varying tones. Many were making plans for the off hours between classes and later in the evenings.  
  
People seemed to like to have plans in place. They also seemed to like having every hour scheduled. Not that that was a bad thing. He didn't like to be idle anymore than the next person, and a variety of activities was welcome, to an extent.

But all this in-depth _planning _and _group activities _seemed overrated. Couldn't people just sit still – on their own – for any length of time; just being quiet?  
  
_No, everything has to be complicated so that it at least _sounds _important. _  
  
He turned into the parking lot corridor, still staying out of the main stream of traffic. Life was good, until a roving student detached herself from a gaggle of peers and blocked his route with a wide, friendly - albeit empty - smile. "Hi! I'm…"  
  
There were two generic strategies for the battlefield: Strategy of Attack, and of Defense. Filed under Defense, was the sub-category Evasion. Schooling in both was a staple to every Garden's training plan. Squall was a student of practice – evident in his grades – testing and honing his skills in and through unique situations. Here, was one such unique situation.  
  
"…Emillian Rohost…"  
  
Eyes squared on his path, Squall's pace didn't slow as he neared the campaigning student.  
  
"…And I represent the Garden Squad for Peace and Love…"  
  
_Not _another _one. Didn't I get accosted by one of them just yesterday? Hmm, out in force it seems. Garden Chapter something, page something, section onenumberoranother: "Sometimes the best way to evade is to just keep advancing through the enemy."  
  
_"…We're holding a rally tonight and I'd just _love_ it if you would join me for…"  
  
He was past her, but she turned to follow. _Tenacious…__  
  
_"I've got a folder just for you! Then I'll make out a special card for you to keep on your person…"  
  
_A card?__ Does everything have to have a card? _He kept walking, staunchly trying to evince as much disinterest as humanly possible. _A card to get in my room, a card for the cafeteria, a card for classes, a card to get outside the Garden…  
  
_"You'll even get your own free, personalized mug – all I'll need is your name and a small donation!"  
  
_Stop making it sound so personal- your cohorts ran the same line on me the other day. _They passed into the parking garage. _  
  
_"So what do you say, we'll sit down here on this crate and you can sign a few –"  
  
_If you even say the word 'forms'… _"That's my crate." Squall possessively hooked a hand through one of the slats.  
  
Emillian Rohost blinked.  
  
Hefting his prize, Squall stalked past her.  
  
Rohost watched him go, jaw slack. A member of a rival student organization sidled up next to her, gesturing down the hall. "Tried recruiting Leonhart too, eh?"  
  
Emilian Rohost nodded and sighed.  
  
"Don't feel bad – we all try; no one succeeds." The student grunted, "Maybe we just need more incentives."  
  
"You mean palm-sized squishy mascots and bumper stickers?"  
  
"Don't know, maybe more paperwork. Paperwork looks good on a clipboard – you know? Very official looking."  
  
---


End file.
